


All The Truth I Know

by VesperNexus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Spoilers for S04E06 The Laws of Gods and Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1614167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperNexus/pseuds/VesperNexus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Laws of Gods and Men through Tyrion's eyes.</p><p>“Yes, father, I’m guilty. Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?”</p><p>Yes, yes he is. He’s guilty. Guiltyguiltyguilty-</p><p>You admit you poisoned the king?</p><p>His laughter burns like ashes in his mouth.</p><p>“No. Of that I’m innocent. I’m guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I’m guilty of being a dwarf.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Truth I Know

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Folks.
> 
> Spoilers for 04x06 (The Laws of Gods and Men). Continue at your own discretion.
> 
> So, I recently watched the latest Game of Thrones Episode, and it killed me.
> 
> Simple as that.
> 
> Honestly, the one thing Peter Dinklage is guilty of is stealing the damn show with those last three minutes of monologue.  
> I've seen the episode more than a few times now, and I had to do something for it. I just had to. So this is what I presume was going through Tyrion's head during the last while, finally breaking after seeing that lying whore.
> 
> *The title was inspired by the ending song of the episode, an amazing instrumental of The Rains of Castamere.  
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**All the Truth I Know**

Of _course_ he trusts Jaime- he doesn’t quite know why he should, _how_ he can after everything- but _Jaime’s his brother._ Jaime will tell truth; Jaime _cares_ , and he faintly wonders how he can think like that after all that’s happened.

You’re going to be found guilty, his brother’s told him. Meryn and Varys and his father will make sure of that, he knows- you’re going to plead for mercy, Jaime said- ask to be sent to the wall. And Tyrion pauses for a moment, because that _is_ what they told Ned Stark- but Jaime makes a fair point; his father isn’t Joffrey.

He’s _worse._

But Tyrion trusts his brother- perhaps not like he should be able to, but he _does_ , and it might get him killed on day- probably sooner than later- but he isn’t going to throw away the chance Jaime’s given him, no matter how unjust it seems.

A voice at the back of his head makes him wonder just what Jaime did to make this happen- what he’s given up, _who_ he’s given up to do this for him. The corner of his eye turns to his _beloved_ sister from beneath his unruly golden Lannister locks, and he thinks it probably for the best. She’s done all that’s in her power to execute him, and Jaime’s given him a way out. His brother’s saved him.

He wants to smile, wants the feeling to warm his heart like he’s heard these things should. But it doesn’t, and it’s hard to understand why when he looks at Jaime. Tyrion’s on trial for regicide and these pathetic animals are smiling from the stands- pathetic animals he’s _saved_ , the _lot of them_. They’re here because of him. The swine dressed in their fine silks and arrogance, they’re _alive_ because he’s _saved them._ For a fleeting moment in the silence, the sounds of quiet footfalls echo through the chambers and he diverts his gaze to the crowd, wondering who’ll next find him guilty. For a second, as those footsteps near he considers just _giving up._ He wants to yell at the swine he should have let Stannis burn them, but he quells his anger. He’ll be fine, Jaime’s said so. He’ll go to the wall and he won’t have to see any of the wretches again, and at least he’ll live knowing his bitch of a sister never got _everything_ she wanted.

So he quiets this madness raging in his head and diverts his gaze, forcing the shields he knows are almost impenetrable. One, two witnesses left; it’ll be fine, he tells himself. There’s nothing more they can do to hurt him.

So he turns, emerald orbs glimmering and cast out- searching for the subject walking towards the witness podium- the next to point out what a _monster_ he is, how he’s slaughtered the most _noble_ child in all of Westeros, when-

He freezes.

There’s no other way to describe it. Cold seeps from his skin and climbs in rivets along his flesh, and a shiver begins to claw its way across his spine. There’s quiet in the court, and no one says a thing and he suddenly can’t breathe because it’s been taken away from him, his breath, his voice, _everything._

Because Shae’s walking to the stand, _Shae-_ and _there must be a mistake. She isn’t- she won’t, not Shae, notShaenotShaenotShae-_

But she _is,_ she’s climbing on the small ladder and into the stand, and Tyrion doesn’t feel his heart beating because he’s half a mind to believing it’s been ripped out of his chest.

She meets his eyes for a moment and- _oh Shae, Shae don’t do this_ \- but her gaze is cold as the ice of the wall, and his eyes begin to mist, his vision fogging ever so slightly. He’s suddenly feeling _so dizzy_ and it’s difficult to _breathe_ because she’s there and she shouldn’t be because _Shae loves him,_ Shae _loves him_ and she’s told him. She’s told him he’s _hers_ and she’s _his_ but then why is she here? She shouldn’t be here- she _shouldn’t_ be here.

His hands find the wood and his legs give out a little beneath him, but he holds himself up because it’s getting hard to breathe and he’s just trying to make sense of all this. He _can’t_.

The silence seems to drag on forever and when she speaks, that beautiful voice _devoid_ of _everything_ , and he feels himself crumbling a little because this is _cruel._ By Cersei’s standards, by his father’s standards, _this is cruel._

She’s speaking and she’s saying all these _vile, untrue_ things, and by now Tyrion thought he’d be used to people saying things like that about him. But he isn’t, he can’t be because she isn’t _people,_ she’s _Shae_ and he _loves her._

She’s Shae and he loves her and apparently she doesn’t love him back, because she’s saying all _these horrid things,_ she’s twisting his _happiness,_ the few moments he’s ever smiled _,_ she’s twisting them into vile, unspeakable _lies_ and it’s _killing him._

She talks about him and Sansa and his voice is coming back, because he can hear the jealousy in her words and it _hurts. Didn’t she know? How could she not know?_

He’s desperate because this can’t be- this _can’t be._ He’s trembling a little and she’s still talking, _he told me to call him my lion,_ he listens, _he stole me,_ he listens, _he-_

_I am yours, and you are mine._

_I am yours, and you are mine._

_I am yours, and you are mine._

He listens, and he finds his voice.

“Shae…” It’s shaky, and there’s pain, something so raw and hurt and _can’t she see what she’s doing to him?_ “Please _don’t._ ” He’s begging her, he’s _pleading_ with her, he’s- he’s-

“I am just a whore, remember?”

And he _breaks._

She doesn’t _understand,_ she’s never _understood._ He loves her and she’s lied, she’s lying, she’s never loved him- how could she? How could she do this if she’s loved him? Why would she do _this?_

So he listens as she talks, and she’s breaking him so there’s nothing left, and he collected his voice again except this time isn’t like the first. He isn’t going to plead with her, isn’t going to say he loves her because she’s _lying_. She’s _always_ been lying, hadn’t she? It’s what _whores_ do after all, isn’t it? _Lie?_

“-I was his _property.”_

“-but she wouldn’t let him into her bed.”

“-promised to _kill_ King Joffrey for her.”

“ _Father_.”

She’s lying like the rest of them, and she’s no better. He was a fool to think so, a fool to _love_ her. Because she’s right. She’s been right all along; a _whore_ \- that’s all she ever was. A _whore_ he’d fallen in love with because he was a _fool_ , a damned fool but he didn’t deserve _this_ , and she didn’t deserve _him._

 _She’s just like the rest of them,_ and the realisation twists his weary heart and he can almost hear some of it shatter. But that won’t do.

His curls have fallen in front of his eyes and he isn’t looking at that _lying whore, the traitor,_ and he’s _done._ He isn’t going to _beg_ for mercy, isn’t going to _plead_ for his life like he’s guilty _._ Not to these swine, these _monsters-_

And Shae’s just another one of them. With Cersei and his father and all those wretches whose lives are worth _nothing_ , she’s all the same. _She’s no different. She never loved you; you were a fool to believe someone could love you._

_She’s just a whore._

“ _I wish to confess.”_

He isn’t going to give up his life for a _pathetic_ mercy he doesn’t need; isn’t going to pay for whoever killed Cersei’s savage of a bastard. He deserves more than this, he _deserves more than this._

“ _I_ _wish to confess!”_

So he does, he confesses. He confesses and he tells them _all,_ those pathetic creatures that don’t deserve the mercy of life, he _tells them all._

So his father asks him about Joffrey’s death, the bastard that should have been slaughtered long, _long_ ago, and he tells them what they want to here. He tells them the _truth._

He turns to the monsters in their fine silks and arrogance,

“I _saved_ you. I _saved this city._ And all your _worthless_ lives.”

And he tells them.

“I should have let Stannis _kill you all._ ”

There’s outrage and it’s _fuelling_ him; it’s the fire burning in his soul, the flames mending the broken bits of what he _was._

His father’s calling him, asking him if he wants to confess, and his voice speaks for him before his mind can register anything beyond the mind-numbing pain and _anger._ The anger like fire, like _lies,_ like _lying whores._

“Yes, father, _I’m guilty. Guilty._ Is that what you _want_ to hear?”

Yes, yes he is. He’s guilty. Guiltyguilty _guilty-_

_You admit you poisoned the king?_

His laughter burns like ashes in his mouth.

“ _No._ Of that I’m _innocent._ I’m _guilty_ of a far more _monstrous_ crime. I’m _guilty_ of being a _dwarf.”_

The sparks are afire and his father’s laughing, and Tyrion wants to send him back to the hell he’s come from with all of _them,_ with Cersei and the swine behind him and that _lying whore-_

“You are not on trial for _being a dwarf._ ”

And it’s so ridiculous he’s almost _choking_.

“ _Oh-_ _yes I am.”_

Yes, yes, _yes._

“I’ve been on _trial_ for that my _entire life._ ”

His father’s fuming, he’s losing hold of his temper and Tyrion just wants to watch him _burn._

“Have you nothing to say in your defence?”

But he _does._

“Nothing but this-” he turns, his head’s tilting and he knows there’s a manic glint to his eyes because he doesn’t need to prove _anything_ to these monsters. A smile stretches his lips and it’s _painful_ but it feels _so good._

He turns to Cersei, and his smile vanishes. She deserves a thousand hells more than he, and he knows she’ll rot with that bastard of hers once she’s good and dead. He just hopes he’ll see the day.

The words claw from his lips and there’s a frighteningly angry desperation to them,

“I did _not_ kill Joffrey- _but I wish I had.”_

He can see _her,_ _Shae,_ and she’ll hear this too. He wants her to. Wants her to hear the venom in her voice like Cersei will, wants them both to _know._

“Watching your _vicious bastard die_ gave me more relief than a _thousand lying whores!”_

He turns at the animals jeering behind him, and the smile’s back on his lips, and he’s _angry_ and _desperate._

 _Desperate_.

 _“_ I _wish_ I was the monster you think I am.”

_Desperate._

“I _wish_ I had enough _poison_ for the _whole pack of you!”_

__Desperate._ _

“I would _gladly give my life to watch you all swallow it!”_

_Honest._

They want the truth, and now he’s told them. He hopes they’ll enjoy the burning fires of hell, looks forward to the days he might hear them scream and beg for a mercy they won’t get.

They’re yelling when he turns back to his _father_ , they’re yelling and there’s outrage and Tyrion knows what’s coming, so he says what he needs to before it does.

“I will _not_ give _my_ _life_ for Joffrey’s murder! And I _know_ I’ll get _no justice here._ ”

They’re going to burn, all of them.

“So I will let the _gods_ decide my fate!”

They will turn to ash and he’ll have his _revenge._ His father and _Cersei_ and that _lying whore._ They’ll know _pain_ like he has and he wants to hear them _scream._ He should have let them _die._

There’s silence before he speaks, but his eyes are alit with flames and he wants to _rip them apart._ He wants to _make them suffer._

So through his teeth and his clenched fists, through the madness in his eyes and the blood streaming from his palms and nails he says,

_“I demand a trial by combat.”_

 

 


End file.
